


Friday's child - the Merlin Edition

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a young earl who needs to get married to gain access to his inheritance. His childhood friend Merlin needs someone to protect him from his landlord. The solution is obvious. Their feelings are more complicated. The beginning is based on Georgette Heyer's novel "Friday's Child."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, in this Regency AU marriage equality exists and has always existed.

The library of the DeBois estate was richly furnished. The heavy walnut bookcases and the chunky and the heavy chairs with their intricate carvings dated from before Queen Anne's reign. Some visitors might wonder why the current Earl of DeBois did not replace this outdated furniture with something more modern. The excellent condition the room was in led few to believe, however, that the Earl might be in pecuniary difficulties.

Two men currently occupied the room. The older man stood at the sideboard, while the younger was perched on the edge of a chair. Agravaine, the fourth Earl of DeBois, was leisurely pouring himself a glass of port from the decanter the butler had just brought in.

“You should try some of this,” he recommended and turned to the younger man, his nephew Arthur Riothamus, third Earl of Pendragon. The blond tightened his full lips. While his uncle seemed perfectly relaxed, the young man was vibrating with tension.

“I need the money.”

“I do not doubt it.” Agravaine seemed highly amused and Arthur had to clench his fists together. His bright blue eyes lit with impotent wrath.

“Sir, this is no laughing matter. I do not ask you for a loan. I merely wish to access my own money.”

“Which your father has left in trust until you turn twenty-five.”

Arthur cursed under his breath.

“My dear boy ....”

“I cannot wait until I am twenty-five!” Arthur protested.

“You know the conditions of your father's will as well as I do, my boy. I cannot break them for you, I am afraid. But if you should marry before you turn 26, full control of your estate will pass into your hands. Of course, you do not seem inclined to do so at present and I commend you. I hear that you are among the admirers of Miss Smythe. I expect my nephew to have more sense than to seriously entertain the notion of offering for a woman whose grandfather was nothing but a poor merchant.

”Guinevere is beyond reproach,” Arthur protested hotly.

”I do not doubt the young lady’s character my boy. But I shudder to think what your father would have had to say about it. I grant you, the land Sir Thomas has designated as her portion would round of your estate nicely, but ….”

Arthur had to grit his teeth at that. “I don't want her inheritance," he exclaimed. "All I want is my own!”

“My boy, you would squander the entire principal in less than a year, I dare say. Your father was a wise man. I am afraid no sensible girl would marry a man with your libertine propensities and ...”

Arthur jumped up.

“I will marry," he vowed. "And if Gwen will not have me, I will marry the first person I encounter on the way back from her to London.”

After delivering this Parthian shot, he turned on his heels and left.

The sight of his uncle would not have gratified him. Agravaine felt there was little danger of his nephew's marrying anyone in the near future. He smirked as he took another sip of his expensive port, paid for with his nephew's money.

 

After his unsuccessful application to his uncle, Arthur drove to his own estate, Camelot Manor. It was a mere two hours from the DeBois estate at Arthur’s bruising pace, but his temper began to cool as he sped along the country lanes. He should have known that Agravaine would not budge. He had long suspected that his mother's brother was using the Pendragon estate to line his own pockets. It would run counter to his own interests to allow his nephew access to his principal and his accounts. But his uncle was underestimating him. True, he would prefer to remain a bachelor for a while longer. He was devoted to Gwen and flattered himself that she preferred him above her other suitors. But she was scarcely the sort of woman who would let her husband continue his courses of pleasure. Once he was married to Gwen he would have to settle down, and he did not enjoy that prospect. On the other hand, he was aware that the lovely Gwen had more than one suitor. She could scarcely be expected to wait for Arthur in any case. His uncle also underestimated the lengths Arthur was willing to go to access his inheritance. Gambling debts were debts of honour. And Arthur grew tired of applying himself to loan sharks.

 

Upon his arrival at Camelot Manor, he was greeted by Morgana, his adopted sister. He regretted her loyalty to the place. Her sister, the lady Morgause, lived with her wife Nimueh. Those ladies frequently implored Morgana to settle down with them until she married herself. None of the three ladies cared about the impropriety of Morgana's residence as a single woman in her deceased guardian's house. Officially, she kept house for Arthur but it was widely known that he hardly stayed at the manor. Both Nimueh and Morgause detested Arthur and wanted Morgana to themselves. Morgana was stubbornly clinging to her position as Lady of Camelot though.

 

On the following afternoon, Arthur rode the small distance from Camelot Manor to Smythe house (locally known as 'The Smithy'). Rather than trying the front entrance, he sauntered through an open door leading from the terrace. When he encountered an astonished footman, he tossed his whip and gloves on a table and put his beaver hat next to them. Then he demanded to see Sir Thomas. He claimed to bring Sir Thomas news of his son, Elyan. Sir Thomas was affable enough to his unexpected visitor. The two chatted amiably until Sir Thomas was called away to meet his bailiff. Arthur said he would see Guinevere on his way out and Sir Thomas just nodded.

“She'll be delighted to see her old friend, I am sure.”

 

Guinevere Smith was not delighted and far less affable than her father. She greeted Arthur with reluctance. Arthur was not easily deterred though. After they had exchanged the usual idle platitudes, he didn't waste any more time and went down upon one knee before her chair.

“Do not, I beg of you, say more, my lord,” implored Gwen. She averted her lovely countenance, and clasping both hands to her bosom.

“Damn it, Gwen,” Arthur expostulated, “I haven't even started!”

“Do not!”

“But I was about to propose to you!” Arthur said with a touch of impatience.

“I know!” she replied, her hands still clasped over her rather lovely bosom. Her brown eyes were wide and imploring. “It is useless. Say no more, my lord.”

The young Earl of Pendragon rose up from his knees, much chagrined. 

“I say, Gwen, you should let a fellow speak,” he said crossly.

“I would spare you the pain, my lord.”

“Stop talking in this damn theatrical way,” he replied in a biting tone. “And stop this 'my lord' nonsense, as if you hadn't known me your whole life.”

Gwen flushed and stiffened her posture. It was true, since their estates bordered on each other, they had known each other their whole life. But her recent season in London had established her as a celebrated beauty, with half the eligible bachelors at her feet. She was accustomed to more reverence and Arthur's offer also put her in a fluster.

In some dudgeon and confusion, she looked out of the window while Arthur paced in front of her chair.

When their eyes met, he stared at her belligerently. Then his good humour reasserted itself, and he grinned. 

“Oh, for God's sake, Gwen, you know I'm head over heels in love with you.”

“No, I don't,” she said with her usual frankness.

Arthur's jaw dropped. “Now, really, Gwen, come on. Word of a Gentleman, I am! Haven't I been devoted to you since we first met?”

“No,” she said plainly.

Arthur blinked.

“When you first met me,” she said without rancour, “you said that all girls were nuisances.”

“I did?”

“Yes you did, Arthur, and you locked me into the gardener's shed. If it had not been for Morgana, I should have been left there all day.”

“No, no,” Arthur protested feebly. “Not all day.”

“Yes, I should, because you went off to shoot pigeons with one of your father's fowling-pieces, and never gave me another thought! Just as is your wont.”

“Lord, if I hadn't forgotten that,” Arthur exclaimed. “Blew the hat off old Alator's head too! He was mad as fire! Went straight to tell my father. When I think of the flogging I got – Gwen, how the deuce should I be giving you a thought with Father making me too damned sore to think of anything? Be reasonable, my dear, be reasonable!”

“It doesn't signify in the least,” Gwen answered with a dismissive shrug. “But when you say that you have been devoted to me since you first saw me, it's the greatest untruth I ever heard!”

“I liked you better than anyone else at least,” Arthur tried. 

She regarded him with a reminiscent look which didn't sit well with Arthur.

“No, I don't think you did,” she finally stated. “In fact, you always preferred Merlin Emrys over any of us.”

“Merlin?” Arthur gasped. “Merlin? Damn it, Gwen .... I never thought of Merlin!”

“Oh, I didn't say you were ever in love with him,” she said. “But when we were children, you liked him better than anyone else around here. He used to fetch and carry for you and he pretended he didn't get hurt by your horrendous cricket balls. He was only a baby, of course, otherwise he would have seen how odious you were.”

Roused, Arthur said with feeling. “I'll swear I wasn't half as odious as Cenred.”

Gwen seemed slightly confused, then she pulled herself together. “Not that it signifies. The truth is we should not suit, Arthur. Indeed, I am deeply sensible of the honour you have done me but ...”

“Never mind that flummery,” Arthur interrupted. “I don't see why we shouldn't deal extremely well. I am in love with you, Gwen -- pining away, I give you my word! No, really my dear girl, that's the plain truth. When he measured me for my coat Stultz found it out.”

“I fancy,” said Gwen primly, “that it is the life you lead that is to blame for your wasting away, my lord. I don't flatter myself to be the cause.”

“Well, if that doesn't beat it all!” exclaimed his lordship indignantly. “Has Elyan been spreading tales about me?”

“No one has been telling tales,” she asserted not quite truthfully. “I do not like to say it but you must own that there is no secrecy about your conduct. And I must say, Arthur, if you loved me like you say you do, you would take _some_ pains to please me.”

“Take pains to please you! Take – No, by God, that's too much, Gwen! When I think of the way I've been dancing attendance on you, wasting my time at Almack's night after night –“

“And leaving early to go to some horrid gaming-hell,” she interrupted him.

The Earl had the grace to blush, but he regarded her with a frown, and said grimly: “Pray, what do you know of gaming-hells, miss?”

“I am thankful to say I know nothing at all of them, except that you are for ever in one, which all the world knows. It worries me.”

“Oh, does it?” Arthur retorted, anything but gratified by this evidence of Gwen's solicitude.

“Yes,” said Gwen. She raised her lovely brown eyes to his face, and said: “Perhaps I ought not to speak of it. But – but you have shown an unsteadiness of character, Arthur. A want of delicacy of principle which makes it impossible for me to accept your offer. I do not want to give you pain, but your extravagance and the wildness of your conduct must prevent anyone sensible from bmarrying you.”

“But, Gwen!” Arthur protested, horrified. “Good God, my dear girl, that will all be a thing of the past! I shall make a great husband! I swear I shall! I never looked at anyone else –“

“Never looked at anyone else? Arthur, how can you?” There was real amusement in her voice now, as well as censure. “I saw you at Vauxhall with the most vulgar, hateful –“

“Not in the way of marriage, I meant!” Arthur corrected himself. “That was nothing -- nothing in the world! If you hadn't driven me to distraction –“

“Nonsense!” Gwen snapped.

“But I tell you I love you devotedly! My whole life will be blighted if you don't marry me!”

“It won't. You will merely go on making silly bets, and racing, and gambling, and –“

“Well, you're mistaken there,” Arthur interrupted. “I shan't be able to, because if I don't get married, I shan’t have a feather to fly with.”

The blunt admission had the effect of making Gwen stiffen. 

“Indeed!” she said. “Am I to understand, my lord, that you have offered for my hand to extricate yourself from your debts?”

“No, no, of course I haven't! If that had been my only reason I could have offered for a score of men or women these past three years,” Arthur said. “But I only wanted to marry you, Gwen. You can ask your brother, if you don't believe me.”

“I do not wish to ask Elyan.” She flushed. “Do not bring up my brother. I trust Elyan has not encouraged you.”

“No, no indeed not. But Gwen - the whole fortune is left in trust until I'm twenty-five, unless I marry before that date! And my Uncle Agravaine won't release any of my money apart from that ridiculous annuity my father dictated in his will.”

“Well,” Gwen gave him a cold look. “Then go and offer immediately for one of the score of men and women who would be glad to marry you.”

“But I don't want to,” he said petulantly. “Damn it, Gwen, I love you.”

“Well, I do not return your feelings, my lord!” Gwen retorted. “I won't accept your offer. Please take your leave now.”

Arthur turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

 

Once he was back at his own manor, Arthur took his horse to his stables and then walked around the back of the house. As he entered the garden he came across the person he least desired to see at the moment. Morgana walked along the path he had to take to the house, carrying flowers in her arms. She smiled at him.

“Back so soon?”

“I am astonished by your astute perception, Lady Morgana.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, my Lord Pendragon. I merely wondered how you could bear to absent yourself from your newly betrothed so soon.”

Arthur clenched his fist at his sides. He glared at the mocking woman. “Obviously she is not my betrothed.”

“Well, I am glad that Gwen has as much sense as I believed.”

“I thank you.”

“You're very welcome my Lord.” She lifted the flowers in her arms. “Now, aren't those going to look lovely on the dining table?”

“I do not intend to stay for dinner.”

She just gave him a look.

 

Of course he stayed for the night. Morgana's appeal to consider his tiger and also the old retainers who had prepared his favourite dessert had been fruitful. He was frequently accused to be aloof and arrogant. But he had never been considered a cold man and had always considered his servants' well-being. Contrary to his father. He retired to his bed at an indecently early time to escape Morgana's barbs. 

 

The next morning the Earl drove his pair of spirited bays along at a spanking pace. He wanted to get as quickly as possible away from the scene of his humiliation. His tiger warned him that if his master didn't pull in for the next corner he would throw them both out of the vehicle. Arthur, who had cooled off by now, steadied his pair and took the corner at a canter. They drove by a small hamlet and came along the small estate owned by Cenred Essetir. The house, Ealdor, was set back form the lane and screened by trees and shrubbery. It was enclosed by a small stone wall.

Arthur did not spare the wall a glance, still moody after his disappointment. His tiger alerted him to the fact that a young man was waving at him. Arthur turned his head back and upon recognising Merlin Emrys, he reined his horses in and backed them.

“Hello there.”

Merlin grinned shyly. “Hello, Arthur.”

He was a gangly young man, with large ears and sharp cheekbones. Arthur suddenly noticed the tightness of his usually so cheeky grin.

“What is wrong, Merlin?”

“Everything,” Merlin said, his voice thick.

Arthur was a good-natured man. He usually did not spare Merlin any thoughts at all. But when he did think back on his childhood he remembered little Merlin Emrys with mild affection. He had, as Gwen had pointed out, taken advantage of the little boy’s devotion when he was in his wild teens. Merlin was always ready to play cricket and to toil after him with the game-bag when he went out shooting. True, Merlin always had some cheeky comments to make about Arthur's laziness. But he eventually did everything Arthur desired him to. In hindsight, Arthur had bullied and tyrannized him. But he had also protected her against the even bigger bully Cenred. 

Cenred’s family had long claimed Ealdor. Cenred had always seen the Emrys's as squatters. When Arthur was up in Oxford, Cenred had made a move. He had produced documents that convinced the local authorities that he was indeed the rightful owner of the estate. Everyone had suspected that the documents were fraudulent, but no one had come to the help of the widow Hunith Emrys and her son. 

 

Cenred had graciously allowed Hunith and Merlin to remain in the dowager house. There they lived on the small annuity Hunith had inherited from her own mother.

“Is it that big bully?” Arthur asked therefore, casting the rug off his legs. He handed the reins to his tiger and ordered him to get down and walk the horses. Then he jumped down from the curricle and walked to Merlin, who was still sitting on the wall.

“Is it mossy?” he asked. “I don't want to spoil my breeches.”

Once Merlin had assured him that it was not, he sat down gracefully next to Merlin. He put a friendly arm around the younger man's shoulders.

“So, what is it Merlin. Out with it.”

“Cenred said I have to marry him, otherwise he will make us pay arrears on the rent for the last years,” Merlin forced out through clenched teeth. “That bastard.”

“But surely that is all a hum,” Arthur expostulated much shocked. “He cannot actually do that, can he?”

“That's what we believed when he first came to demand Ealdor,” Merlin said in a hopeless voice. Arthur winced. He could not help but feel a vague notion of guilt. He remembered Hunith, recently widowed, coming to beg for his father's help. The late Earl of Pendragon had declined any assistance; he felt that he should not get in between the dispute of two neighbours.

“I thought you were set to marry Will?” Arthur asked. “What happened?”

“Will has been dead for a year now.” Merlin's voice was flat and Arthur winced. Ouch. He should have kept up with news from the village. In all likelihood Morgana had even told him about it.

“I am sorry to hear it.”

“Not your fault.” Merlin sighed and peeled some moss from the stone under his hand. “Anyway, we weren't engaged, although you're not the only one to think that. He was my best friend.”

“I see.” Arthur fell silent. Years ago he would have taken the opportunity to shove Merlin off the wall, or to put him in a headlock to distract him. It was no longer appropriate given their long separation. When a moment had passed, he decided to change the subject.

“So where's your mother now?”

“She's in Scotland, to visit with her brother.” He sighed. “We were hoping that Uncle Gaius might be able to help us, but her last letter was not hopeful.”

Gaius Laece had been the late Earl of Pendragon's most trusted friend. A brilliant man who had, despite his family's social status, never felt any desire to be part of the ton. He used to be a don in Oxford but for several years now he had been enjoying a position in St. Andrews. He was much missed in England.

After a moment of silence, Merlin looked at him.

“I had heard you were in the area,” he said casually. “Did you wait on Gwen already?”

“Ha!” Arthur looked glumly at the little wood in the distance that hid Smythe house. 

Merlin cocked his head. “You don't sound pleased.”

“My hopes are quite cut up.”

“Certainly not? Did you ...”

Arthur interrupted him. “She doesn't care a rap for me.”

“Are you sure? Maybe she just had a headache?”

“No it wasn't that. The plain truth is, she won't have me.”

“Oh, Arthur, do you mind very much?” Merlin asked full of sympathy.

“Of course I mind!” he said testily. “My whole life is blighted. I'll go to the devil without more ado. If I don't get my hands on my fortune …”

Merlin looked at him with innocent curiosity and he sighed.

“My principal's tied up in the silliest trust anyone has ever thought of. I'm kept on a beggarly allowance until I reach the age of twenty-five. Unless, get that, unless I'm married before then. My damned uncles manage everything. Or, they should, but Tristan leaves everything to Agravaine. Old scoundrel. Ten to one, he is feathering his nest with my money.”

Arthur pulled on his exquisitely breeched legs up and put his chin on his knees, pouting as he contemplated the cruelty of his father's will. 

“Surely there must be something you can do,” Merlin encouraged him. “I have never known you to give up, Arthur.”

And indeed, Arthur had a sudden inspiration.

“You should elope with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Elope with me! We shall get married, that will solve all our problems.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to inspect Arthur. “You're foxed, Arthur.”

“No, no I'm not. I'm just thinking it through logically. I desperately need access to my inheritance. You desperately need to get away from Cenred. We run off to London, marry, and all problems are solved.”

“Well ... yes. But on the other hand, we will be married. Or does your father's will allow for a quick divorce?”

Arthur looked at him in disbelief. “Divorce? I won't dishonour my family or yours! There won't be any divorce.”

“Oh, good. That's all right then. So we just elope and be married for the rest of our life?”

“Yes, of course.” It was all crystal clear to Arthur. “Unless there is somebody else you'd rather marry?”

Merlin blushed and shook his head.

“So it is decided,” Arthur declared. “You will come to London with me and we'll get married.” 

“But, Arthur, you love Gwen.”

“Of course, it won't be a love match,” Arthur said impatiently. “But I'm fond of you, always was, and we will deal famously. You don't take pets and you won't expect me to alter all my habits and dance attendance on you, will you?”

“Oh, no, of course I won't.”

“So, there's only one thing for it. We must go off now without saying a word about it to anyone. Once the knot's tied, and we can do that fast enough if we get a special licence, there is nothing anyone can do. Come along now, somebody is bound to stumble upon us, if we dawdle here much longer. I am not keen on a confrontation with Cenred right now.”

“Come now?” Merlin gasped. “But I have nothing with me, Arthur. Should I not pack a portmanteau?”

“Now, be reasonable, old chap. Do you expect me to come driving to your front door? Should I ask Cenred for his leave to abduct you? I can buy you anything you need in London.”

He looked at Merlin. The man wore loose, dirty trousers, that were so short they were nearly breeches. And a saggy shirt. And dull, scuffed boots.

“If the rest of your clothes are anything like this, the sooner you're rid of them, the better. I can't have my husband walking around like a country clown.”

Merlin chuckled as he hopped off the wall. “But I am a country clown, Arthur.”

Arthur pulled a grimace but didn't say anything. He signalled his tiger to bring the curricle back to them.

 

George, Arthur's tiger, was not surprised when his master informed him that they would take this young man with them. He also didn’t blink when Arthur demanded that he was not to tell anyone about this event, especially not in a boozing-den. He did gasp slightly, however, when Arthur informed him, that they would be married.

Shortly after they had driven up, George asked shyly.

“Are you eloping, my Lord?”

“Of course we're not ... or, maybe we are?”

The situation with Cenred was confusing.

“Only, sir, if you're eloping, shouldn't he be hiding?”

“Right." Arthur slowed the horses. "Merlin, get down on the floor.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get on the floor and hide under the rug. We are passing through Cenred's lands, we can't have anyone see you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked. He curled up at the Earl's feet and let him cast the rug over his body. 

Considering that Arthur's style of driving was known as neck-or-nothing, Merlin was rattled around. He made no further complaint, but held on to Arthur's boots. In this fashion they covered the next few miles.

After the second toll-gate, Arthur pulled up. He remarked that they were now reasonably safe. Merlin grumbled that it was about time and scrambled up next to Arthur again. Arthur looked at him critically.

“Smooth your hair. You look like a complete romp.”

Merlin grinned, but accepted the comb Arthur handed him. Arthur was obliged to carry one due to the currently fashionable hairstyle. Merlin did his best to bring his hair in order while he was being jolted over the uneven country road. His hair was not cut into a hairstyle that was even remotely fashionable, as well as unruly by nature. It was no surprise that his efforts were not crowned with much success.


	2. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin get married and settle into their new life.

Arthur drove straight to his lodgings. Merlin would not be able to remain there for the night. It would have been acceptable had he just been a friend. But they were going to marry. The rumour that Merlin had spent the night at Arthur's lodging would not be welcome.

As soon as they arrived, Arthur sent his man to buy a portmanteau and a couple of bags for Merlin. Arthur had originally intended to provide Merlin with one of his own. His man had alerted him to the fact that they were all embossed with his crest. Arthur then dragged Merlin to his dressing room to find something more suitable to wear for him. Merlin was dressed in shabby country clothes which in such a bad state, that many of Arthur's tenants would be ashamed to wear them.

There was not much he could offer Merlin. The boy was so skinny. Pantaloons, cut to bring out Arthur's fine, muscular legs, looked ridiculously loose on Merlin's frame. The shirts were not much better. At least their feet were of a comparable size so Merlin could wear a pair of Arthur's old boots. But for the rest of it, Arthur had to concede defeat. When Merlin had pulled on his own shirt again, Arthur shook his head.

”We need to rig you out in style. Won't have time to get married today anyway.”

Merlin looked down at himself. “You might be right.”

”I know I’m right,” Arthur corrected him. “You need to get used to that when we’re married.”

 

Arthur took Merlin to his own tailor. The boy was measured and they ordered a few coats and waistcoats to be picked up later. For the moment, a dazed Merlin found himself with the biggest wardrobe he had in his life. Three pairs of pantaloons, blue, yellow and white. Several white shirts. One pair of black breeches. Two pairs of silken white stockings. One damask waistcoat with fine stripes. Several white cravats.

Arthur then dragged Merlin along to acquire a hat and be measured for a pair of his own boots. Merlin thanked Arthur, but Arthur waved it away. He pointed out that it was his marriage to Merlin that would enable him to pay for all this anyway. And he admitted that Merlin looked quite charming once he put on clothes that fit.

 

When they were back at Arthur's lodging, Arthur's man had already acquired the requested baggage. He immediately set upon the task to pack the new purchases. When that was done, Arthur conveyed his fiancé to the Grillon. They partook of a mediocre dinner before they parted ways. Arthur felt quite satisfied, even though Gwen's rejection still smarted.

 

The following morning, Arthur burst into the apartment of his friend, Elyan Smythe. He found Elyan sitting at breakfast with the Honourable Gwaine Caerleon. Both were recovering from what must have been a very convivial evening. Elyan was brooding over the racing news in the morning paper, toying with a small piece of ham on his plate. Gwaine's clouded gaze was set on nothing in particular as he idly twirled the tankard of ale in his hand. They both looked up in surprise, when Arthur strode in.

“Elyan, I want a word with you," Arthur announced, tossing his hat and gloves onto an empty chair. "Hallo, Gwaine.”

“It's Arthur,” Gwaine announced.

“Yes, I can see that,” Elyan agreed, staring at his sister's erstwhile suitor. “I thought you were in the country.”

“So did I,” Gwaine confirmed. “Are you back, Arthur?”

“You can see that I am, can't you?” Arthur retorted. “What the deuce are you doing here at this hour?”

“Spent the evening at the Daffy Club,” his friend explained.

“Oh, cast-away again, were you?” said Arthur. He hunted the sideboard for a clean tankard and pouring himself a liberal amount of ale. He drew up a chair, pushing various trifles which reposed on it on the floor, and sat down.

“Elyan, you are such a knowledgeable fellow. I need your help.”

Elyan dropped the Morning Chronicle. “Anything in my power, Arthur.”

“Where does a fellow get hold of a special licence?”

The effect of this question was to cast the earl's two cronies into stunned silence. Elyan swallowed once or twice.

“You don't mean a marriage-licence, do you, Arthur?”

“Yes, I do. What else should I mean? Thing you have to have if you want to get married in a hurry.”

Elyan looked at him doubtfully. “Are you foxed?”

”No, of course not!”

“Damn it, my sister's never accepted you! And even if that were so, do you expect me to go behind my father's back? I am positive you do not have his consent.”

“Lord, no! She wouldn't look at me.”

Elyan stared at him, and then, as if seeking guidance, at Gwaine. 

“But you said she wouldn't look at you,” Gwaine helped him out. “I heard you distinctly. If she won't look at you, there's no sense in a special licence. You want banns.”

“Oh, shut up, Gwaine," Arthur interrupted him. "I am getting married today and I can't do that without a licence.”

“Arthur, you _are_ foxed.” Elyan exclaimed, with a touch of severity. “How can you be married today, when she won't have you?”

“Lord, can you think of no one but your sister? It isn’t she. Obviously.” Arthur demanded. “I'm going to marry someone else, of course!”

Elyan blinked at him. “Someone else?”

Gwaine shrugged. “No reason why he cannot do that, Elyan.”

“I don't say he cannot do that,” Elyan replied. “But it sounds like a hum. He has been pursuing my sister for months. Now he walks in here and says he’s going to marry someone else. That's absurd.”

“You're right,” Gwaine agreed. “You're bamming, Arthur. You shouldn't do that to a man at this time in the morning.”

“Confound you both, I'm in earnest!” Arthur said, setting his tankard down with a crash. “"I'm going to marry a boy I've known all my life. Damn it, I must marry someone. If Gwen won't have me, it has to be someone else. I shan't have a feather to fly with if I don't!”

“I’m touched by your loyalty to my sister,” Elyan said. “Who is this boy? It cannot possible be Merlin.”

“Of course it's Merlin! Who else would run off with me at a moment's notice?”

“Arthur, you cannot .....”

“Yes, I can. Cenred was going to bully him into marriage. You cannot tell me I shan't be a better husband than Cenred.”

”But, Arthur ...” Elyan appeared to be much shaken by the turn of events.

”I shall marry Merlin,” Arthur insisted stubbornly. Gwaine was still confused. He had known both men for many years, but they had never mentioned a Merlin.

“Merlin?” he inquired. “Is that even his real name?”

“Of course it is,” Arthur said impatiently. “It's a perfectly proper name.”

“Yes for a bird it is!” Gwaine protested.

“Where is he?” Elyan asked hastily before Arthur could eliminate Gwaine.

“He's at the Grillon. I couldn't very well let him stay at my lodgings. Couldn't think of anywhere else to take him.”

Elyan nodded, then he eyed Arthur.

“How old is Merlin again?”

“Not quite eighteen yet,” Arthur admitted with a rueful grin.

Gwaine shook his head. “There'll be the devil of a dust kicked up.”

“No, there won't. His mother will thank me on her knees when she hears about this. She’s in Scotland, with his other guardian. I can’t wait until I get their consent. That would take weeks. If I must marry someone, I'd as lief marry Merlin as anyone else.”

“What about Gwen?” Elyan asked, much offended on his sister's behalf.

“Oh, well, yes, of course,” Arthur said hastily. “But she won't have me, and as a gentleman I have to accept that, don't I? So it might as well be Merlin. Now, where do I acquire a special licence, Elyan?”

“Damned if I know,” the other confessed.

Arthur pursed his lips in dismay. Fortunately, the door opened and Elyan's man came in with Gwaine's coat.

“Edun will know!” Elyan exclaimed. “He knows everything. Edun, where may his lordship get a special licence?”

If Edun was surprised, he didn't betray it. He bowed.

“I believe, sir, that the correct procedure will be for his lordship to apply to his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“But I don't even know him!” Arthur protested. 

“My lord, that is not a preliminary.”

Gwaine shook his head. “I wouldn't go near him, Arthur.”

Edun gave it as his considered opinion that any bishop would answer their purpose. Elyan waved him away, just as there was a violent knocking at the street-door.

 

Elyan instructed Edun to deny him, but the efforts were for naught. A short moment later a handsome young man erupted into the room. His luxuriant black hair was in disarray. A fierce frown marred his features as he glared at the earl.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “I saw your phaeton!”

“Did you now, Lancelot?” Arthur drawled.

“Don't trifle with me. I know where you have been!”

Elyan rolled his eyes. “Sit down, for God's sake. There's no need for a scene.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Gwaine put in. “Arthur's going to be married today.”

“What!” Lancelot gasped and paled, looking from Arthur to Elyan.

“No, not Gwen,” Elyan assured him. "Really, Gwaine. Arthur's going to marry Merlin, a childhood friend of ours.”

“I wronged you,” Lancelot addressed Arthur, abashed.

“I don't mind,” Arthur assured him. “And don't go sprouting nonsense about satisfaction. It wouldn't give me satisfaction to beat you again.”

Lancelot grinned a bit at that.

“So who is this Merlin?”

“As Elyan said, Merlin is an old friend. Gwen wouldn't have me.”

“She refused you!” Lancelot cried in triumph, quite revived.

“Indeed.”

"My sister has good sense,” Elyan put in sternly. He fixed Lancelot with a stare, until his friend hat the grace to look away.

 

The discussion turned to the problem of procuring a marriage licence again. Lancelot shocked them all by confessing that he was acquainted with a bishop. Arthur found no difficulty in persuading Elyan to entertain Merlin while he went with Lancelot and Gwaine. Elyan assured him that he would be delighted to renew his acquaintance with little Merlin.

 

There was a small hiccup at the bishop's office. Arthur had to make an oath to confirm that he had consent of Merlin's guardians. He only hesitated a moment before he swore his oath. He was confident that Merlin's guardians would approve. When he returned to his lodgings he found that Elyan and Merlin had not yet arrived. He left them a note to meet him at the Church, while he went and informed the Vicar of his good fortune.

 

Gwaine and Lancelot were waiting with him for Merlin. The three gentlemen were fashionably attired. Blue coats, pale pantaloons, uncomfortably high shirt collars, and exquisitely arranged cravats. Arthur was also sporting a long ebony cane. Gwaine and Lancelot looked up with notable interest, when a hackney drew up. Elyan emerged with a lanky young man, Arthur's groom, who smiled at them in a shy manner. Gwaine produced a nosegay for Merlin with a slight bow and cheeky wink. Merlin blushed, but Arthur was pleased to note that he accepted it with good grace.

“Merlin, that's a fetching beaver!” said the Earl, by way of greeting. “But what the deuce made you so late? You best pay off the hack, Elyan: who knows how long we shall be here.”

“No, Arthur. Keep the hack!” Elyan said firmly.

“Why? If we want a hack, we can call up another, can't we?”

“The thing is, there are one or two packages in it.” Elyan looked a little sheepish.

Arthur stared at him, and then took a look inside the vehicle. 

“One or two packages!” he exclaimed. “What the deuce possessed you to bring a load of bandboxes to a wedding?”

“They are just items I bought at the Pantheon Bazar!” Merlin explained. “We had no time to take them to your lodging, I am sorry if you do not like it.”

Arthur shrugged, considering the matter closed. “Well, we can't help it now. Here, I have forgotten to present you two. These are the Honourable Gwaine Caerleon and Lord Lancelot du Lac, Viscount of Eldredham. You're bound to see a lot of them in the future, Merlin. Come on, let's not dawdle, we have to settle the business.”

 

The business was soon settled. The only small hitch was that neither the earl nor his two friends had remembered the rings. When the priest asked for them, Arthur had the presence of mind to tug off his signet ring. Merlin was wearing his father's old signet ring as well. Thus the business of exchanging rings was done to the satisfaction of the priest. They all signed the register and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief once they were outside the church. That was his future settled.

 

When he helped Merlin into the hackney Arthur turned back to his friends. He asked them to join the at Fenton's for an early dinner party. He suggested to follow that up with a visit to the theatre, and, perhaps, by a little supper at the Piazza. Gwaine goggled at the suggestion.

“But Arthur! You and Count Pendragon ....on your wedding night ... you won't want a party!”

“Fudge! What the devil should we do, pray? We can't just spend the evening looking at each other, we'll bore each other to death. Merlin, you'd like to come to a play with us, wouldn't you?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Merlin smiled at them. “Please come.”

“So that's settled,” Arthur proclaimed. His friends nodded.

 

As the newlywed couple was rattling over the cobbles, Arthur put his arm loosely around Merlin.

“That went well.”

“It did,” Merlin confirmed. Then he looked at Arthur with big eyes. “When your friend said Count Pendragon - did he mean me?”

“Yes. To tell you the truth, it sounded odd to me too, but I'll wager we will get used to it soon enough.”

“I forgot that I would become Count Pendragon upon marrying you.”

“That's because you're an idiot, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckled at the insult and they were silent for the rest of the trip.

 

Merlin's luggage had already been brought from the hotel to Arthur's lodgings. But his man alerted him to one small matter that Arthur had not considered. The question of Merlin's bed. Arthur's lodgings only had the one bedroom. He grimaced.

“I am sorry, Merlin, you will have to sleep on the couch tonight. We will have to consider the matter of our future lodgings tomorrow, if that is all right with you.”

“That's fine,” Merlin assured him.

“Good.” Arthur favoured his husband with a smile. He felt that matrimony might suit him after all.

 

Gwaine and Elyan (Lancelot had excused himself) each had a present for Merlin. Gwaine had selected a charming pocket watch with chain. Elyan had considered their future household and had chosen an ormolu clock. Merlin accepted both presents with obvious delight. 

The clock also put Arthur in mind of his chief problem. As they all took their seats round the table in the dining room, he raised the question of his future establishment.

Elyan argued that the family mansion in Grosvenor Square was a good address. He emphasised that circumstance as particularly important to establish the young Count Pendragon. Gwaine admitted that it was a good address. But he also asked his friend to consider that he would have to throw out all the existing furniture first.

“Yes, by Jove!” Arthur exclaimed. “Most of it has been there ever since Queen Anne. You wouldn't want to refurbish the mansion now, Merlin. Not when the season is about to start.”

“No,” Merlin concurred, much awed by the formidable task painted for him.

“We shall have to think of another place,” Arthur pronounced. “In the meantime, what do you think of this hotel, Merlin?”

“What?” Merlin seemed to have been far away in his thoughts.

“What do you think of this place, Merlin? It just struck me that we might as well enquire if they have a suite for us here. My lodgings are too small,” he explained when his friends looked confused. 

Merlin said, that Arthur was bound to know better than him what was appropriate. Before they left for the theatre, Arthur had secured a suite for the following night. 

 

The play they attended was a simple comedy, but Merlin was delighted. He laughed even at the stupidest jokes. Arthur, as well as Elyan and Gwaine, had several acquaintances amongst the audience. They waved and bowed during the interval. By the end of the evening, Merlin had been introduced to several of their acquaintances. None could hide their astonishment to find out that Arthur had married an unknown young man from the country. But Merlin had managed to behave creditably. Arthur had been worried that Merlin's propensity for frankness and teasing might affront his acquaintances. As it turned out, Merlin was shy among strangers. He would have to learn to act more confident as Count Pendragon. For now, it could be expected that no one would take it amiss that a young man, new to town, was reticent at first.

 

Despite his reservations, Arthur thought it appropriate to lead Merlin to the Pendragon townhouse. He might have protested against the notion of taking residence there the previous evening. But he had resolved in the morning that it behoved him to give Merlin the option. 

When Merlin was led through the shrouded house in Grosvenor Square, his vivacity left him. It was clear that he was unable to picture himself as master over this outmoded grandeur.

Arthur was not oppressed by the house. But he knew that an army of servants was needed to keep it up. Although he didn't shy the responsibility, he felt too young to take it. Moreover, he thought the furniture too dowdy and dreaded the task of replacing it all. By the time they had inspected the salons and bedchambers, he had made up his mind.

“You wouldn’t like to live here, Merlin.”

“No, indeed,” Merlin said with a hint of relief in his voice.

“Good. Never could stand the place myself. What we need is a much smaller house. Maybe later when we're older we might decide to live here, but not now. Damn it, this place feels like a tomb! Let's go.”

Merlin accompanied him out into the square again. Once they were in the phaeton again, Merlin looked at Arthur.

“I do hope you have no plans to make the Fenton our permanent abode.”

Arthur's disgusted noise draw a chuckle from Merlin. 

“So, how shall we set about finding an eligible house?”

“Lord, I don't know!" Arthur replied. "We'll tell our family's man of business to deal with it. I ought to inform him that he has to deal with me now, and not my uncles, anyway. Let's drive into the City, we may as well settle the business now.”

 

Merlin was ready to do so. The man was startled when Arthur invaded his office with his new husband. He would have expected a summoning to the hotel. But he received them immediately. With all the disapproval of someone who had known the young earl since he had been a schoolboy, he reminded Arthur that maintaining four establishments might be excessive. Arthur was surprised that someone should consider his hunting-box in Leicestershire as an establishment. However, Arthur let himself be persuaded to rent, rather than buy, a house. The old solicitor considered himself capable of finding suitable accommodation for the couple. He couldn't quite repress a smile when he noticed the young Count's relief.

 

On the following day he waited on them with a list of available houses. He had also drawn up an advertisement of the marriage for the Morning Post. Neither Merlin nor Arthur had remembered that formality. Arthur graciously permitted to have the advertisement forwarded immediately. They then set forth in a hackney. Arthur and Merlin declared that the fourth house was perfect. They dismissed the solicitor's complaints. The old man thought that the house was not stately enough for the dignity of the Earl of Pendragon.

 

The following days were spent with furniture shopping and a visit at Tattersall's. Arthur purchased a pretty mare for Merlin to ride and a light-mouthed gray to run between the shafts of his own phaeton. Once they had taken care of that, they got tired of shopping.

Later Merlin expressed an interest to see the lodge in Leicestershire. Arthur decided that they would travel there. He might as well teach Merlin how to ride there. This way his husband would not humiliate both of the in London. They also invited Elyan and Gwaine, much to both gentlemen's astonishment. Though there was no hunting during this season, they both agreed. Both were intrigued by the young Count of Pendragon.

 

Arthur had been right. His hunting lodge at Melton Mowbray was just the thing for Merlin. Merlin was happy to be there. He had dreaded humiliate himself in London by being a poor rider. He was grateful to have the chance to brush up his skills far away from the fashionable world.

Arthur had expected that a few days spent at Melton Mowbray at the fag-end of the summer would be sufficient to make him race back to London. To his surprise, he found amusement in teaching his husband to ride. Then Arthur and his friends found out that Merlin had never been introduced to the mysteries of hazard, faro and basset. They were utterly astonished. Merlin was also inexperienced at piquet and whist. The young men immediately set to put this matter to rights. They also made Merlin get used to port, laughing at the faces he pulled. They thus contrived to while away the time. A further diversion was created when Lancelot arrived to visit his encumbered estates. Since these were only a few miles from Melton, he spent a good deal of time with his friends. Lancelot discovered a sympathetic listener in Merlin. It was not long before he had confided his hopeless passion for Guinevere Smythe. 

The only unpleasantness arose when Merlin attempted to jump a high hedge and took a fall. He was only bruised by his tumble and the horse had merely strained a tendon. Arthur, who had been a helpless spectator, quickly ascertained that his husband was unhurt. Then he boxed his ears and swore he would never bring Merlin out again. His friends depreciated his violence. They endorsed his strictures, however. By this time they had started to treat Merlin as a younger brother. Merlin laughed the incident off and assured Arthur that he would learn to do better.

A letter from Guinevere, written from London, to congratulate her dear old friend Merlin, had the effect of breaking up the party. When Lancelot learned of Gwen's return to town he posted back to London immediately. Gwaine and Elyan took their leave a few days later, and the hunting lodge felt sadly empty. When their solicitor wrote to inform them that the house was ready, Arthur had grown tired of the country. 

 

They were set down at dusk one evening in Half Moon Street. Merlin was enchanted and ran from room to room. Arthur left him to his own devices, and settled in the room Merlin insisted on calling his library. He faced the unpleasant task of sorting through their mail. The bulk of it consisted of bills, but there were a few notes congratulating him on his marriage. And angry letter from Morgana. His half-sister felt that he should have written her. Instead, she had learnt of his marriage via the Morning Post. He felt the small twinge of guilt and annoyance, as always when she was in the right.

 

The young couple dined at the fashionable late hour of eight o'clock on their first evening in their new home. The dinner was excellent and earned Arthur's praise. Merlin had already been obliged to receive a stately visit from the superior being who presided over the kitchen. Now he remarked, with a hint of laughter in his eyes, that he was glad they had decided to take away the old fireplace. Instead, a closed stove had been installed. Arthur grinned and demanded what the devil Merlin knew about kitchen stove. Merlin chuckled. 

“Not much, but Mrs. Groombridge says they are excellent contrivances. Apparently there's a great saving of coal.”

“Well, that is something, especially considering the sums we spent on furniture. The bills are staggering,” Arthur remarked, emptying his wine glass. “What's so amusing?”

“Just the idea that I am supposed to be master over this house. It seems so preposterous.”

“It does, I suppose.” Arthur pulled the corner of his mouth up. “We're bound to get used to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot in the next chapters :) They will also be less close to the original. I just had so much fun rewriting it up to this point.


End file.
